


Family

by danwrites



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Assault, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, also mentions of anxiety, lots of homophobia, this is so angsty im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danwrites/pseuds/danwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hamilton. This needs settling. Meet me in the tennis court after debate, alone."<br/>Alex's only reply: "You're on."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> I have a problem with projecting myself into fics, Jesus.
> 
> This fic is a complete mess I'm sorry.  
> If you're bothered by violence, mentions of abuse, homophobia etc. please turn away, I wouldn't want to trigger anything.

John was struggling. He'd been pacing backwards and forwards between the front door and the kitchen's entrance for what felt like a year, but what realistically was only ten minutes. It was almost four o' clock, and December's sunlight was beginning to recede from the sky. His boyfriend was due home after his debate class at 3:30. He could easily have gone to the library to study, but John couldn't shake the fear he felt in his chest. Time seemed to drag endlessly as his mind raced through scenarios and possibilities as to where Alex could be. Ten more minutes, and he would go out to search for the boy.

-

John's mind worked in facts. He struggled with trust and with friendship, so he learned quickly to rely on solid facts - things that would never change - would never leave him. It was a fact that Alexander woke at 7:30 every morning, walked to the kitchen, and poured (John's) Reese's Puffs into a bowl. To John's disgust, he would then pour orange juice over the cereal, sit down, and watch the news. John would emerge from the bedroom shortly after, almost always with a complaint about how the weather was awful, or about how his back ached, and Alex would kiss him good morning before opening his laptop and getting to work on whatever project or paper he was working on. John would either leave for a morning class, or would be drawn back into the bedroom, where he would go back to sleep until he was needed. It was a routine that helped the two stay focused, and free of anxiety.

This wasn't what had happened this morning. When John emerged from the bedroom, Alex was nowhere to be seen. His phone was left on their bedside table - _so forgetful_. He assumed that he had left early, maybe to meet with Lafayette for early morning coffee before their first class together. As John walked to the kitchen, he noted that there was no bowl in the sink, meaning that his boyfriend had not eaten. This wasn't unusual. Alexander's haphazard dance through life was fueled by sleepless nights, and hunger strikes lasting days. It was something that John had been forced to adapt to. Constant reminders to eat, to sleep, to shower, to breathe. Post-It notes scattered around the small apartment they shared. John left in a hurry, already late, ignoring the vacant living room completely.

It was half past three when John arrived home, tired after a long day of classes. With still no sign of Alexander, he crashed onto the couch, flicking through countless channels before settling on the news, knowing that Alex would be home any minute now. It was not until 10 minutes later he noticed that Alex's laptop was lying in the middle of their living room floor, open to his emails. This was strange, he had thought at the time - Alex was as protective over his laptop as a child over a new toy.He saw an email from Aaron Burr, a man that Alex had always had disagreements with over the simple things. They were incompatible, though John found amusement in the fact that the two were so similar - whether they'd admit it or not. He felt guilty about the invasion of privacy, but read on anyway, convincing himself it was for Alexander's benefit.

_"Hamilton. This needs settling. Meet me in the tennis court after debate, alone."_

Alex's only reply: _"You're on."_

John started pacing around the apartment, processing the words. He ran through the facts. Alexander's last class was a debate class - a class in which he had few friends, and many enemies. The class ended at 3 o' clock, and it took roughly 25 minutes to walk to the tennis courts. His boyfriend should be home, meaning that he has either met up with Burr, or that he has changed his mind and instead is working in the library - unlikely. Alexander's one flaw is his _stubbornness_ , a complete inability to give up on what he believes in. Alex is likely at this very moment, in a fight with Burr. John grabbed his coat and raced out the door, wincing as winter air filled his lungs.

-

He was running faster than he ever had before, dodging patches of ice, a man on a mission. At some point, he pulled out his phone and called Lafayette, asking them to collect Hercules and to meet him in the park. John's heart was racing, as he ran into the unknown. The uncertainty raised panic in him. Maybe he would arrive to see the two men simply debating, maybe he would see his boyfriend limp on the ground, cold, lifeless. He shook the image from his head, leaping past anyone who stepped into his path.

He began shouting for his partner as soon as he neared the place of the duel. Hercules had texted him, reassuring that they would be there in 5 minutes. He heard distant shouts, and sprinted towards them, lost in his worry. The tennis court was alive with _action_ \- the wrong kind of _action_. Time seemed to slow as John took in what he was seeing. A small crowd was gathered, all cheering and pushing the fight on. A silhouette he could only assume was Burr, was situated atop a smaller figure, fists exposed. Burr was being pushed forward by a larger man, accompanied by a taller hooded shadow, who was laughing and kicking the frail boy on the floor. John didn't recognise these men, though he assumed that they also attended Alexander's debate class. John's stomach turned as he saw Burr's fists jerk forward, colliding with the smaller man's face - Alex's face. He was paralysed. He pulled out his phone and texted Hercules, telling him to come quickly. John was no hero. He turned away, no longer wanting to see what was happening.

He waited in the shadows, in a state of panic, wanting so desperately to protect his boyfriend, but he could not find the courage. It was when he heard a cry of pain that he _snapped_.

"P- please." 

He felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it. He ran towards the centre of the crowd, pushing through people until he reached Alex's frail body, now collapsed on the floor completely.

"Get away from him," John hissed in Burr's direction. He fell to his knees, pushing the attacker away. The closed distance now highlighted the severity of the attack. While Burr wore a dark bruise around his left eye, he was relatively free of injury. Alexander was not. His face was red and swollen, his nose ran with blood, and he had multiple cuts on his forehead. He shivered in the almost-freezing mid winter temperatures. His white shirt was ripped at the top, and he was covered in mud from the larger men's feet. He was unconscious. Burr stood over him, staring, guilty. John turned around and looked him in the eye, letting his anger spill out towards him.

"Did you not hear me? _Leave_."

"Fucking _fags_." The hooded man to his right spat, "Let's go."

John recognised the man as Thomas Jefferson - a man that Alex had spent hours telling John about. He ignored the comment, instead attempting to shake Alex awake. John's eyes met Burr's one last time, before he sprinted to catch up with Jefferson. The men walked away laughing, proud of what they had done. The crowd slowly dispersed after this, nobody stopping to see if either of them were alright. The ignorance disgusted John. Nobody cared about the _disgusting gays._  The disgust evolved into fear as he looked at his boyfriend - the man he loved - so fragile on the floor. He took off his coat and placed it neatly on top of Alexander.

"Alex you've gotta wake up, please," John begged. He felt sick. He wished he never came. He held his boyfriend in his arms and sobbed into his chest, ashamed of what he'd let happen. If only he had come earlier. He should have come earlier. He should've -

"Mon ami, what has happened?" John let his friend's voice bring him back to reality. He picked his head up and felt Lafayette's hand on his shoulder. Hercules was across the court, regaining his breath.

"Couldn't st- stop it Laf, I couldn't," John sobbed, gripping his friend's body. "I- I'm so sorry, Laf" They wrapped their arms tightly around John, as Hercules knelt beside Alexander, watching his eyes snap open.

"John?" He swung around and once again buried his face in Alex's chest. The smaller boy held him as he cried, while Hercules began examining his injuries. "Th- thank you, John," Alex sighed, pain made obvious through the grit of his teeth as he whispered. John had no reply.

"Let's get you _home_ ," Hercules mumbled. 

"Home," Alex echoed, defeated. For once in his life he had no words. They had been beaten out of the young man in the most literal sense, and it broke John's heart to see him so empty.

 -

The walk home was painful. Alex's possessions had been thrown across the court, his book bag discarded in the corner, and his coat left in pieces near the entrance. He whined with every step, other than that remaining quiet for the remainder of the walk home. The four were rarely silent when together, and the absence of half-serious sex jokes and complaints about neighbours felt alien to John. It was nearly 5 o' clock by the time they reached the shared apartment. John unlocked the door, letting Hercules and Lafayette in to place Alexander on their bed. He sighed as he locked the door behind them for the first time in months. He no longer felt _safe_ in his own home.

He directed Hercules to the first aid kid half-heartedly, and sat on the living room couch. He was freezing after offering his coat to his boyfriend, and Lafayette brought him some tea. The minutes blurred as he absentmindedly stared at the floor of the living room. At some point, Hercules joined the two of them, offering a quiet murmur that Alex would be alright. They sat in silence. Eventually, the two left, promising to return in the morning, leaving John alone to his thoughts. All he felt was indescribable guilt. He let this happen. If only he'd have woken up earlier or noticed the laptop or chosen not to wait or ran faster. His mind raced, and he began to cry. These were not alike the silent tears shed in early hours of the morning after a nightmare, when he doesn't want Alexander to know his dirty secrets. His chest heaved, ugly sobs _drowning_ out his breathing until he suffocated, lost in time and worry and thought and-

"John?"

John's head snapped up towards their bedroom, falling silent. He limped to the bedroom, the guilt dragging him down, faltering as he saw Alex sat up in bed, cheeks damp, _damaged_. 

"John come here," he pleaded. He lifted the duvet slightly, allowing John to slip in. John stripped slowly, and instantly began fussing over Alex's face. He had small plasters across his forehead, and tissue stuffed up his nose. His right eye was swollen almost shut with bruising, and his lip was torn. The shifted duvet allowed John to see his chest - bruised, _broken_. He placed a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's lips. The two sat in silence, wrapped in each other's arms, fear not needing to be expressed in words. Eventually, the two lied down in the bed, a tangle of love and unspoken worry.

"Goodnight Alexander, I love you."

"I love you too, John. Sleep well."

-

John did not sleep well. It was unusual for him to be awake when Alex was not, but the fight had stolen his boyfriend's energy. John decided to stay in bed though. He wanted to feel safe in Alexander's arms, but he couldn't. He reflected on how if he had not arrived on time, Alex may not have made it. It terrified him, how fragile their situation was. He'd chosen specifically to attend college here to escape the troubles of his hometown, but it seemed the hate was not something he could break free from.

The morning triggered more worry. How could he attend his classes, knowing that the person he might sit next to could have been there, cheering Burr and Jefferson on. How could he face Burr?

Alexander awoke at 7:30 that morning. He staggered to the kitchen, gripping the walls on his way, and poured (John's) Reese's Puffs into a bowl that he strained to reach for. He poured orange juice over the cereal, and stumbled to the living room to watch the news. John emerged from the bedroom, as always giving him a soft kiss on his forehead. This morning however, Alex was the one complaining. They curled up together on the couch, Alexander grunting in pain at every movement, complaining about everything from the weather to the stiffness of their mattress. At some point in the morning, Lafayette and Hercules joined them with coffee, soup, and blankets. The four of them watched movies together, and John felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. 

They would heal slowly, sure, but they would heal together - as a _family_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alex is 100% one of those people who steals your cereal and eats it with orange juice.
> 
> I hope this was ok??? Despite reading over this a million times, there are probably still errors, and I'd appreciate any constructive criticism!! Thank you for reading !
> 
> Shameless self-promo:  
> im working on taking promps on my tumblr: dan-writes !!


End file.
